Sick Day
by FlutteringLights
Summary: A bit of a plotless drabble-esque story about Mike calling in sick and Harvey coming to the rescue. A cute, fluffy one-shot.


Hello, everyone! This is my first Suits fanfiction, though I have watched the series for a while now and adore it. This is a bit of a pain without plot, as most of my fics are, because who doesn't like a good ol' fashioned hurt/comfort story? I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to review.

Harvey is unhappy to say the least. After spending the past forty-five minutes in his office waiting for his associate, he's annoyed, perhaps even angry. Therefore, when his phone rings—his personal cell, not his office phone—and Mike's name flashes across the screen, he makes the split-second decision to show no mercy.

"Where in the hell are you?"

"Harvey," Mike's voice sounds hoarse and deeper than normal, "Sorry. I'm calling in sick today."

"You're supposed to call the office for that, Mike, not me."

"I didn't… Sorry." The associate's tone sounds less apologetic and more confused.

"How bad is it? Are you going to need to see a doctor?"

Mike thinks about that for a moment. _How bad? On a scale of what to what? I'm going to live, if that's what Harvey wants to know. Yes. Wait, that doesn't answer the question. Do I need a doctor? Maybe. I don't have a doctor, though. What to do about that?_ He realizes after several beats that he hasn't answered Harvey, and he doesn't know what he's supposed to say anymore.

"Could you repeat the question?"

Mike, confused? Probably not a good sign. Harvey sighs exasperatedly and hangs up the phone.

"Donna, I'm going out for a long lunch."

"I called Ray, he'll be out front any minute. And you'll need this," she says, holding up a small gold key with a wink.

Meanwhile, in his own apartment, Mike is busy dying. Perhaps that's a little dramatic, but that's what it feels like. After two consecutive days of working nonstop and sleeping for a grand total of five hours in two nights, the kid has caught some kind of flu bug from hell. He had come home from work at seven o'clock and crashed immediately, barely bothering to take off his suit jacket and tie before collapsing into his bed and letting sleep claim him.

The alarm clock woke him up rudely and loudly, electronic beeping grating on his ears and worsening his headache. Mike had turned it off to make it stop before accidentally falling asleep again, wasting nearly an hour.

Figuring he'd solve the feverish shivers running through his body with a shower, he made his way to the bathroom and turned the water on hot enough to fog his mirror with steam, then stepped in for a very quick shower. The heat at first soothed his aching muscles, but became quickly unbearable and made his head pound even more. By the time he stepped out of the shower and dried off, his cheeks were flushed and his head was spinning. He got dressed in clean pyjamas and made the decision to call Harvey.

Harvey climbs into the back of the car and tells Ray Mike's address, then whips out his phone to send a text.

Mike is wallowing in his bed ten minutes after Harvey had hung up on him.

_-I'll be there in ten minutes._

_H.S._

A groan escapes his throat at the thought of Harvey coming into his house and forcing him to go into the office and work, but he knows that once Harvey has decided to do something, there's nothing that will change his mind. With a small moan of pain as his aching muscles flex to stand him upright, Mike shuffles to his closet and picks out a suit and skinny tie. After making his way to the bathroom to dress, he puts on a pot of coffee in the kitchen.

Or, tries to put on a pot of coffee. He only gets as far as filling the glass container with water before his vision goes black around the edges and he leans against the counter and slides his way into a seated position and rests his head on his knees, deciding that maybe it would be best to close his eyes and rest for a few moments.

That's exactly how Harvey finds him when he opens the door to his associate's ratty apartment and calls his name.

"Mike? You awake?" he calls, not bothering to lower his voice. If Mike wasn't awake already, he would be now.

"Over here," comes a feeble voice from behind the older man.

"Jesus, kid," Harvey mumbles, walking fast over to Mike's side.

"You got a fever?" Harvey asks, putting his hand to Mike's head.

"Probably a little one."

"You're pretty hot. Did you pass out over here?"

"Just resting."

"Doesn't seem like the best place for that."

"Whatever. You ready to go?" Mike attempts to stand, only to be pushed back down by his boss.

"Go? Where?"

"To work… isn't that why you're here?"

Harvey snorts. "You think I'm gonna take you in to infect the whole office with your plague?"

"I don't have the plague, Harvey."

"You thought I was taking you to—that's why you're wearing a suit, huh?"

"Well, I don't sleep in them. I'm not you," Mike manages a smirk.

"I wouldn't even be caught _sleeping_ in a skinny tie." Harvey waits for a rebuttal, and when none comes, he continues. "Ray's waiting outside. You're going to get checked out."

"That's not-"

"It's not an offer, Mike, it's a command. Up," Harvey stands and motions with his hand, as if training a dog. "To the vet we go," Harvey prods, and Mike mutters something about "not a puppy" under his breath. Harvey smirks, patting him on the head and telling him what a good boy he is.

Upright, Mike feels unsteady, and reaches out for anything he can use to steady himself. Grabbing the counter, he gets his bearings and follows Harvey to the door, next to which the older man is waiting.

"If you faint I'm leaving you here," he threatens in response to Mike's appearance—a thin layer of sweat sheening on an ashen face, seeming at a loss for what to do when he can't grip the kitchen counter anymore. Harvey grips his shoulders to steady him, and Mike's wobbling decreases. Harvey stops suddenly and turns around, fumbling with his key to Mike's apartment.

"What are you doing?" Mike asks.

"Locking your door so no one breaks into your place. Not that you have anything worth stealing…"

Mike exhales a puff of air in a silent sarcastic laugh and rolls his eyes, then winces at the headache it aggravates. Harvey notices.

"All right, Mr. Ross, looks like you've got a pretty nasty case of the flu. Your temperature is 103.1, which isn't great, but nothing terrible. I recommend some extra-strength Tylenol® for the fever and the aches, and take it easy until you're feeling better."

"I… uh… sort of passed out earlier. Is that normal?" Mike asks.

"Well, it isn't good, but I wouldn't worry about it. It happens sometimes, mostly with young people who live alone—they go to sleep with a high fever and they don't drink water. They sweat all their fluid in their sleep and wake up dehydrated; by the time they realize they have a problem, they're too sick to do anything about it. It's lucky Mr. Specter found you when he did. Otherwise you'd be in a lot worse shape than you are."

Mike nods. "Thanks, doctor."

"Any time. One more thing," he presses as Mike stands to leave, "do you have someone to stay with? I would prefer that you weren't alone for a good twenty-four hours, seeing as you lost consciousness."

After a bit of hesitation, Mike decides to lie. "Yeah, I'll stay with… my girlfriend."

"Good," the doctor smiles and ushers Mike out of the room and into the waiting room where Harvey is waiting for him, talking to a nurse.

"All right, Mr. Ross. Feel free to come back if you start feeling worse or the fever doesn't break in a few days."

Harvey and Mike thank the doctor and they walk together to a taxi—Harvey had told Ray not to wait up, not knowing how long the visit would be. They climb into the cab and Harvey gives the driver his address.

"Aren't you going to take me back home?" Mike asks. All he wants to do is sleep.

"I thought the doctor told you to stay with someone," Harvey responds with an irritated tone.

" He… might've said something like that. But it was just a suggestion," Mike lies, and under Harvey's suspicious gaze, he becomes uncomfortable and continues talking for no reason. "Not even a suggestion, really, more… an idea. A thought."

"Really. Because the nurse I was talking to said that it was _imperative _you be released into the care of someone who could watch you."

"You were getting instructions from her? I thought you were getting her number."

Harvey takes a folded index card out of his suit jacket and smirks. "I'm a multi-tasker."

Mike smiles and rests his feverish head against the window, happy to know he has someone looking out for him.


End file.
